Having sated my gastronomic nostalgia by devouring both cans of Boston Brown Bread, sent to me by my daughter-in-law, my thoughts then turned to the culinary equivalent of a comfy sofa and a warm duvet that is a peanut butter and bacon sandwich.

That sounds fairly straight-forward. Unlike Boston Brown Bread, which is impossible to get over here, and which—when hunted for—elicits suspicious looks and hushed conversations about calling security, or social services, from the staff at Sainsbury’s, peanut butter is readily available in Britain.

However, it is not as versatile a foodstuff as it is in the States. The concept of a PB&J (a primary food group in America) leaves them scratching their heads. As does peanut butter and Fluff® (the classic Fluffernutter®), peanut butter and bananas, peanut butter on celery, peanut butter and apples, peanut butter and Triscuits, et al. (On the other hand, there is—allegedly—peanut butter and Marmite®, though I have not personally experienced this.)

When I inform them that the PB and Jelly/bacon combos are so popular in the States that you can actually buy them mixed together in the same jar, they either shake their heads in disbelief, or tell me that the same is true for PB and Marmite. And then I shake my head.

(Incidentally, all these “peanut butter and” concoctions make me wonder if there isn’t some, poor, underpaid employee at Skippy, Inc. whose job it is to mix their product with anything they can think of—cheese, sauerkraut, pickles, hot dogs, Spaghetti Os, Jalapeno peppers, anything—hoping for a hit. This would explain Reese’s Pieces.)

Their reluctance to explore these foreign peanut butter adaptations, however, is not a barrier to making my own PB and bacon sandwich; that is down to the other ingredient—bacon—which, like Boston Brown Bread, they do not have here.

Oh, they have English bacon. And English bacon is actually very good, even—dare I say, better—than American, or Canadian, bacon. But it isn’t bacon. It’s a thin—but not too thin—slice of pork, with a little fat on it that, when fried or grilled, is extremely tasty. That’s not even in the Bacon food group. It’s just meat; sorta like a slender pork chop. If I was going to use that in a PB and bacon, I may as well put peanut butter on a thin hamburger. (Note to self.)

What they do have here is something they call Streaky Bacon, and they will tell you that it is just like American Bacon. It isn’t. It’s close, but it’s like watching a Billy Joel tribute act: it’s okay, but it’s not like the real thing.

It is, however, the only thing available, so I bought some, fried it up and put it between two slices of bread with some peanut butter. And it did evoke that warm, nostalgic feeling.

It was so good, it inspired me to try a peanut butter and banana sandwich. This was easier because they do have bananas here and they are the same as they are in the States. It did not, however, evoke as warm a feeling as the PB and bacon so, despite the availability of authentic bananas and the absence of real bacon, I think the PB and banana will play second fiddle to the master bacon. (That was an awkward first-draft attempt that I intended to change, but in re-reading it, I think I’ll leave it be.)

The other advantage of the peanut butter and bacon sandwich is, for a few hours after you have one, the flat smells like bacon.

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PS: This is embarrassing. The last thing I did after writing this, and procuring all the photos, was Google “peanut butter and bacon sandwich.” And I could not find a decent example of one. Apparently, PB and Bacon is simply too tame these days.

It turns out, Skippy, Inc. does not need to employ someone to dream up exotic peanut butter combinations; the world is full of people doing that for free, and posting their results. Therefore, instead of finding a peanut butter and bacon sandwich, I found peanut butter combined, not simply with cheese (as in my above, supposedly, humorous exaggeration) but with peanut butter and jelly and grilled cheese. Following on from that, people have also combined peanut butter with:

• sauerkraut
• pickles
• hot dogs
• spaghetti
• jalapeno peppers

and even:

• hamburgers

(Go ahead, Google it.)

I was so chagrined I considered trashing the post, but then I thought, why should I allow a handful of obviously demented people stop me from waxing lyrical about my culinary reminiscing? It would be akin to someone overcoming their fears about diving from the 35-foot platform at the pool, but then not wanting to talk about it after discovering that Anna Edison went over Niagara Falls in a barrel in 1838. The latter stupendous, and stupid, outlier act is not relevant to the person’s 35-foot dive, nor does it detract from their bravery, or their story about it—so long as it’s not boring.

And so, the post stands as it is, and I remain chuffed that I reacquainted myself with peanut butter and bacon (and banana) sandwiches—pedestrian as they seem to be these days—and eternally grateful that I’m not crazy enough to try combining it with sauerkraut.